


cruel to be kind (in the right measure)

by warriorqueenclarke



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Recreational Drug Use, there's a shitload of swearing and weed in this fic i'm sorry it's the australian in me
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-11
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 22:38:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7456585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warriorqueenclarke/pseuds/warriorqueenclarke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raven wants to date Wells, but Wells can't date until Clarke does, so Octavia organizes for Murphy to pay Bellamy to date Clarke so Wells can date Raven. It's not that complicated, really.</p><p>(aka 10 Things I Hate About You AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is mostly just 6k of banter with a tiny bit of plot thrown in, which is probably what this entire fic is going to consist of, so. you've got that to look forward to. there's also a lot of clarke/miller friendship and clarke/wells friendship and clarke/wells/miller friendship. can u tell who my faves are yet.

So here’s the thing.

Raven doesn’t do love. Well, not since Finn, anyway. She doesn’t do love, and she doesn’t do pining: just meaningless flings with whoever she feels like having sex with. So far, that’s worked out for her a hell of a lot better than love has. She’s actually pretty happy with how everything’s going, actually. Like, moving across the country for Finn only to find out he started dating someone one month after he left her, after he swore on his life that they could “make long distance work” - it wasn’t exactly the best start she could’ve gotten. But that was more than a year go, and things have actually started to work out okay.

And hey, she could definitely see the appeal of the other girl - her name was Clarke, and if Raven was into girls, and also if she wasn’t a little bit terrified of this particular one, she would probably have asked her out - and it’s not like she knew or anything. Raven hadn’t spoken to her since - see: terrified of her - and Clarke hadn’t tried to initiate any kind of conversation or friendship since the day Raven confronted Finn while he was sitting in the cafeteria with Clarke. Even then, the only thing she’d said to Raven was: “I didn’t know about you. He fucked both of us over.”

That was about ten seconds before she kneed Finn in the balls so hard he had to go to hospital. (Raven used to think of herself as intimidating. She’s not saying she isn’t, but Clarke Griffin is a whole other level.)

So yeah. Raven’s doing okay. In fact, she’s doing great, until she completely fucks herself over by getting a fucking crush, like an idiot.

“And you’re just not gonna mention who this crush is?” Octavia says. She, Raven, and Monty are skipping fourth to get high under the bleachers, because fuck Economics and also, fuck crushes.

“Fuck no,” Raven says as she exhales.

“Just tell me it’s not my brother,” Octavia says.

“Jesus Christ, O, no,” Raven says. “We fucked one time, and there were no feelings involved.”

“Doesn’t make it any less weird,” Octavia mutters.

“I’m not gonna apologise for sleeping with your hot brother,” Raven says. “Besides, we weren’t even friends then.”

“Can you please stop calling him my hot brother?” Octavia turns to Monty. “You get that this is weird, right?”

Monty shrugs. “He is hot. It’s not a lie.”

“Not you too,” Octavia says with a groan.

“I promise I will never fuck your hot brother,” Monty says, giggling a little because he's a lightweight and it doesn't take a lot for him to get stoned.

“I don’t think he’s into dudes, but thanks.”

“Nobody’s into dudes at this school,” Monty grumbles. Then he pauses. “Well, obviously, some of the girls are, but I mean like. There are no dude-loving-dudes. We have a drought of dude-loving-dudes. It might actually be the biggest tragedy of my life.”

“We have a few,” Raven says. “Murphy’s into dudes.”

Monty makes a face. “Murphy’s a dick.”

“Also, he’s totally gunning for Jaha,” Octavia comments as she throws her finished joint to the ground and stamps on it.

Raven freezes. “What?”

“Y’know, Wells Jaha? Clarke’s step-brother. The mayor’s son.”

“Yeah, no, I know who he is, but what do you mean Murphy’s gunning for him?”

“He’s into him,” Octavia says. “As in, wants to fuck him.”

“Huh,” Monty says. “Jaha and Murphy. There’s something wrong with that image.”

“There’s no way Jaha would ever go for Murphy,” Raven says before she can stop herself.

“I mean, he’s definitely a dude-loving-dude,” Octavia says. “He’s bi, I’m pretty sure.”

“I know that,” Raven says. “I mean - he’s… Wells is smarter than that.”

Octavia looks at her funny. “Wells?”

Raven stares at her shoes and takes another hit from her joint, even though there’s pretty much just ash left, and then has to fight the urge to cough.

“What do you mean ‘smarter than that’?” Monty asks.

“Forget it,” Raven says.

“Oh my god,” Octavia says, glee in her eyes. “You’re crushing on motherfucking Jaha!”

“Shut up,” Raven says, feeling the heat spread across her face as Octavia starts cackling.

“You have a fucking crush on Wells Jaha! This is the best day of my fucking life!”

“I don’t have a crush on Wells, jesus! Shut up!”

“You do. You one hundred percent do.”

Raven looks to Monty desperately, but he’s fighting back laughter.

“Sorry,” he says guiltily when Raven glares at him. “It’s not - I mean, he’s a really nice guy.”

Octavia laughs harder.

“I hate both of you,” Raven mutters. She hikes her bag up on her shoulders, puts her joint - it’s barely even a joint at this point - out on one of the poles and walks away, throwing the end onto the grass as she goes.

“Oh, come on Raven!” Octavia shouts, running to catch up with her.

“Fuck off,” Raven says darkly.

“Raven. Seriously.”

Octavia grabs Raven’s arm to stop her. Raven turns around to face her as Monty rushes to catch up with them.

“Do you actually, legitimately like Wells?” Octavia asks.

Raven makes a series of faces, squirming. She fucking hates her life.

“I’m not gonna make fun of you,” Octavia says. Monty’s caught up with them now and he’s watching them like there’s a possibility one of them might commit murder suicide at any moment, which, to be fair, is not that far from the truth. “Seriously. Just tell me.”

“Yes, I fucking like Wells,” Raven says. “Now please leave me alone to die.”

“You could do that,” Octavia says, “or we could all just be rational human beings and you could ask him out.”

“Technically, she couldn’t,” Monty says.

“Monty,” Octavia hisses. “Be supportive.”

“No, I mean, she legitimately couldn’t,” Monty says. “Wells isn’t allowed to date.”

“What? Why?” Octavia asks, face screwed up in confusion.

“I don’t know, apparently some P.R. thing. It’s bad for Thelonious’ image if his teenage son is going around dating a bunch of people. Probably doesn’t help that Wells is bi.”

“Ugh,” Octavia says. “That’s so shitty, I hate parents.”

“Why is Clarke allowed to date, then?” Raven asks. “She’s technically part of that family now, why doesn’t the rule apply to her?”

“I guess they don’t need a rule for her,” Monty says. “She kind of swore off dating after Finn, and… I don’t know, she’s kind of scary, it’s not like anyone’s looking to date her.”

“How do you know all this?” Octavia asks.

Monty blushes a little. “Miller talks to me about it sometimes. He and Clarke are pretty close, so.”.

Raven huffs. “Well, that’s settled. Jaha can’t date, and even if he could, I can’t.”

“Why not?” Octavia counters.

“I don’t date,” Raven says.

“That’s bullshit,” Octavia says. “This ‘no dating’ thing is just a speedbump. You and Jaha are going to have beautiful, emotionally stunted children, and I’m going to make it happen, and then you’re going to name me godmother to all your attractive, fucked up kids out of gratitude.”

“You’re high,” Raven says flatly.

“Pot, kettle.”

~ ~ ~

Wells gets home about fifteen minutes after Clarke and Miller, and naturally they’ve already taken up all of the couch - Miller’s sitting on one end, legs sprawled wide, and Clarke’s lying down with her feet on his lap and her head propped up against a couple of pillows at the other end. They’re both reading - Miller has his nose buried in Wuthering Heights, and Clarke’s got her worn out copy of The Bell Jar.

Wells looks at them, sighs, and drops into the recliner that sits adjacent to the couch.

Clarke smirks. “I don’t know what you’re complaining about. The recliner’s more comfortable.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Wells says.

“You didn’t have to. I could sense it telepathically through our sibling bond.”  
  
“You’re step-siblings,” says Miller, not even looking up from his page.  
  
“Only technically,” Wells and Clarke say at the same time.  
  
“See?” Clarke says with a grin. “Sibling bond.”  
  
Wells smiles. He likes seeing her like this; happy, comfortable, not shouting at anybody. Of course, he thoroughly enjoys watching her chew people out and terrify them with a single look, but sometimes he worries that she’s cutting herself off from people too much.  
  
“Or maybe it’s a sign that you need to get more friends,” Miller says, as if he’s the one who can read Wells’ mind.  
  
“Fuck you, Miller,” Clarke says, with no real heat. “You have like, one friend. I have you and Wells, so suck it.”  
  
“I have Wells too, kind of,” Miller says. “And Monty.”  
  
“Oh, I bet you’d love to have Monty,” Clarke says.  
  
“Fuck you, Clarke,” Miller says, again with no heat. Verbal abuse, Wells has learnt, is basically how Miller and Clarke communicate. He’s not sure they actually know any other way of talking to each other. Last year, on Miller’s birthday, Clarke got him a signed, first edition copy of Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (Miller is the biggest closet Harry Potter fan Wells has ever met; he has actual figurines in mint condition worth up to eight thousand dollars) and Miller actually almost started to tear up before telling Clarke to go fuck herself. It’s weird. Wells has no clue how they work so well together, but they do.  
  
“That’s why he’s reading Wuthering Heights,” Clarke stage-whispers to Wells. “It’s Monty’s favourite.”  
  
“I could just be reading it because I like Emily Bronte,” Miller argues.  
  
“Fuck Emily Bronte,” Clarke says. “She’s like, the worst of the Bronte sisters. Anne for life.”  
  
“Anne was the least successful Bronte!”  
  
“Anne was amazing, go suck a dick, Miller.”  
  
“You realise that’s not an insult, right? I like sucking dick.”  
  
“You know,” Wells interrupts, “this is probably why you guys can’t make any other friends.”  
  
“Fuck you, Wells,” Clarke and Miller say in tandem.  
  
“Besides,” Clarke says, “we have a good thing going here. No straight people.”  
  
“Don’t drag me into your weird platonic bond thing,” Wells says. “Unlike you two, I have an actual social life.”  
  
“What’s the point of having a social life if you’re not allowed to date, though,” Miller says, and then pauses. “Strike that. If you’re interested and ready for dating, what’s the point of-”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, make fun of me all you want,” Wells says. “Now I get to make you feel guilty when you realise how shitty it is that my romantic life is being held hostage by my parents because apparently I’m the one who can’t be trusted to date in this family.”

Miller waits a moment, and then nods. “Yeah. That is really shitty. Fuck you, Wells, this was way more fun before.”

“Go back to reading your lower grade Bronte,” Clarke says.

Miller gives her the finger. There’s silence for a few moments until he speaks again. “I don’t think it’s about trust.”

“What?” Wells says.

“The reason you’re not allowed to date, it’s not a trust thing. Like, I’m not gonna pretend to be an expert on the inner workings of your rich, upper class, tight-ass parents - no offense - but I’m guessing the reason they made a rule for you and not Clarke is because they know Clarke’s too emotionally damaged to sustain an actual relationship.”

Wells thinks for a moment as Clarke throws her book at Miller.

“I’m not emotionally damaged, you fuckwad,” Clarke says.

“That’s even more shitty than I originally thought it was, actually,” Wells says.

“How could it possibly be more shitty than denying you your basic human rights?” Clarke asks. “Albeit, the right they’re denying you is the right to fraternize with immature shitbrains who are either disgusting or fucking boring as hell and will only drag you down, both emotionally and mentally-”

“This week on, Clarke denies that she has serious intimacy and trust issues and then in the next ten seconds proceeds to prove beyond reasonable doubt that she definitely has said serious intimacy and trust issues…” Miller says whilst expertly dodging the pillows she’s now throwing at him.

“Guys,” Wells says. “Seriously, they’ve never admitted it, but that’s basically their reasoning for telling me I can’t date and not Clarke. They think she couldn’t handle a relationship.”

“She couldn’t,” Miller says.

“Fuck you,” Clarke says.

“So,” Wells says, “if we confront them and accuse them of thinking Clarke’s emotionally damaged, we can use that as leverage to get them to get rid of the rule about me not being able to date people.”

“I don’t know whether I should be scared or proud that your immediate solution to this is manipulating our parents,” Clarke says, eyeing him.

“It’s not my immediate solution! I - I waited it out, I tried to show them that I’m responsible, but-” Wells pauses. “I want to fricking date people.”

Miller’s looking at him now, one eyebrow raised, because he knows that Wells is talking about one person in particular - Raven - but thankfully, he’s promised not to mention it to Clarke because… well, it’s not exactly a perfect situation, Wells wanting to date Clarke’s ex’s girlfriend, and he knows Clarke doesn’t blame Raven, but. It’s awkward.

Wells sighs. “It’s - I know you think dating is stupid or whatever, but I want to fricking date people, and I deserve the chance to be able to.”

“Okay, Elliot Reid,” Clarke says, rolling her eyes. “We’ll try your plan. But if it doesn’t work, and Abby gets shitty with me, you’re doing my laundry for the next week.”

~ ~ ~

“Okay, I have new intel.”

Monty’s just sat down at the table where Raven, Octavia, and the senior Octavia’s ‘hanging out’ with, Lincoln, are sitting in the cafeteria.

“On what?” Octavia asks.

“Wells and the whole ‘no-dating thing’. It’s actually gotten even more ridiculous.”

“Is that actually possible at this point?” Raven asks.

“Trust me, it is,” Monty says. “So, apparently they had this big conversation with their parents about trust and respect and stuff like that, and now the rule is that Wells can’t date unless Clarke does.”

The table is quiet for a moment.

“I… is there some chemical in rich people water that the rest of us aren’t ingesting?” Octavia says incredulously. “Because that makes absolutely no fucking sense.”

“Wait, Monty, why does Clarke have to be dating before Wells can?” Raven asks.

“I’m trying to think of something to make this situation weirder, and I’m coming up short,” Octavia says. “There’s nothing.”

“Aliens?” Monty suggests.

“Monty,” Raven says. “What does Clarke have to do with it?”

Monty sighs. “I’m not one hundred percent sure, Miller was a little sketchy on the details, but supposedly Wells had this idea to like, confront their parents or whatever, because he figured out that the reason that the no-dating rule only applies to him is that their parents think Clarke’s emotionally unhinged-”

“Isn’t she, though?” Octavia says.

“I have art with her,” Lincoln says. “She’s actually not that bad, as long as you kind of… ease into it. You have to let her get used to you.”

“Like a pitbull.”

“Monty,” Raven says for what feels like the billionth time. “Continue.”

“Okay, so they confronted their parents and tried to use it as a reason to get rid of the rule, and their parents nearly caved, but then Wells’ dad came up with the idea that Wells couldn’t date until Clarke did,” Monty says, and then thinks for a moment. “He probably made that rule for the same reason they made the old rule, so if you think about it, they just made the situation worse. If anything, it’ll be even harder for Raven to date Wells now.”

“Thanks, Monty,” Raven says drily, dropping her head to rest on the table.

Lincoln raises his eyebrows. “Raven wants to date Wells Jaha?”

“Raven wants to be left alone,” Raven says, the words slightly muffled by the table.

“He’s a really good guy,” Lincoln says.

“You say that about everyone,” Octavia says, rolling her eyes despite the fondness in her tone.

“Seriously, he really is, though,” Lincoln says.

“All the more reason to get you and him together!” Octavia declares, clapping her hands.

“You know what we could do instead,” Raven says, lifting her head back up. “I could set myself on fire and you guys could throw me off a cliff, _while_ I’m on fire. That could also work.”

“Raven, you beautiful spinster,” Octavia says, ignoring her. “I will find you love.”

~ ~ ~

Wells is in wood tech, working on his birdhouse in companionable silence with Miller and trying to be nonchalant about watching Raven Reyes, which, if the amused look on Miller’s face is anything to go by, he is not succeeding at.

“Why don’t you just talk to her?” Miller asks.

“Okay, first of all, I do talk to her,” Wells says. “We talk all the time. We’ve exchanged numbers, even.”

“I mean, why don’t you just tell her how you feel?”

“Can you imagine how that conversation would go? 'Hey Raven, you’re ridiculously beautiful and smart and talented, and you probably don’t even think about me, let alone like me, but even if by some chance you do, I can’t actually go out with you because my parents are tyrants and Clarke is incapable of trust and/or sustaining romantic feelings for someone! So, are you an X Files fan?'”

“First off, you shouldn’t have to ask if she’s an X Files fan,” Miller says. “You should already know if she is, and if she isn’t, you shouldn’t be asking her out.”

Wells glares at him. “You have no room to mock me about this,” he reminds Miller. “When are you gonna open up to Monty, huh?”

“His parents don’t even know that he’s gay yet,” Miller says. “He’s going through a whole lot of stuff, and he needs a friend right now, not someone who’s trying to get into his pants.”

“Okay, that’s legitimate,” Wells admits. He pauses a moment. “And don’t sell yourself short. You’re trying to get into his pants, and his heart.”

“Why bother with the heart?”

Wells turns around to see who’s responsible for the remark.

Miller doesn’t, because he apparently already knows who it is. “Shut up, Murphy.”

And it is him, standing there with that signature half-smirk on his face, eyes locked on Wells.

“Hey, John,” Wells says, albeit a bit hesitantly. He’s well aware that Murphy’s interested in him. He hasn’t really decided how he feels about it yet, and until he does, it’s not like it’d kill him to be nice to the guy.

“Jaha,” Murphy says. His eyes slide over to Miller for a split second. “Nate.”

“Call me that again and you won’t have enough teeth to pronounce the ‘T’,” Miller says, the kind of absent, calm threat he’s known for. He’d never go through with it, of course, he’s not that kind of guy. Both Wells and Clarke know this, but it doesn’t mean other people have to, and it’s an effective, if not needlessly aggressive, way of getting people to back off.

Murphy raises his hands in surrender. “Chill, dude. Just being friendly.” His eyes return to Wells. “How you doing on this fine afternoon, Jaha?”

“Good, thanks,” Wells says. “You?”

“I could be doing better,” Murphy says with a wink. “Anytime you wanna help with that, you have my number.”

He does actually have Murphy’s number, the guy had insisted on programming it into his phone when he decided he wanted to add Wells to his list of conquests, but so far he’s never found any use for it, and it’s only the politeness instilled in him by his mom that keeps him from deleting it.

“You have hands,” Miller says. “Go jack yourself off and stop harassing Wells.”

“Hey, nobody’s harassing anyone,” Murphy says. “Right, Wells?”

“I should get back to work,” Wells says. “Nice talking to you, John.”

Murphy nods at him, giving him a onceover, and then turns to Miller. “Always a pleasure, Miller.”

And then he’s gone.

“You don’t have to be nice to him all the time, you know,” Miller says. “You can tell him to fuck off.”

“Nobody has to be nice to anyone, technically,” Wells says, “but they should be.”

Miller stares at him. “How do you and Clarke even live together?”

“We’re womb till tomb,” Wells says cheerfully, and gets back to his birdhouse.

~ ~ ~

“I still don’t get this plan at all,” Raven says as she and Octavia make their way across the football field to the bleachers.

“It’s easy,” Octavia says. “Clarke needs to be dating before you can ask Wells out, except she’s not interested in other people and other people are terrified of her.”

“So how is your brother an exception to this?”

“He’s one of the only people who’s not terrified of her,” Octavia explains.

“That doesn’t mean she’ll be interested.”

“He’s also, y'know. Hot or whatever.”

“Ah.”

They make their way over to where Bellamy’s lounging on one of the benches. He’s normally out here during his free sessions because he runs track, and that’s about his only extracurricular activity. Unless you count being an asshole as an extracurricular activity, which Raven doesn’t. Clarke probably does though, so at least they’ll have that in common, if Bellamy even agrees to this stupid plan, which Raven highly doubts he will.

“Hey big brother,” Octavia says, sitting on the bench and sliding up next to Bellamy as Raven stops in front of the two siblings and tries to keep her face blank.

“Hey O,” Bellamy says, giving them both a glance. “Raven.”

Raven nods and doesn’t say anything. It’s not like they’re weird after sleeping together, it’s just - well, they weren’t friends before, and they’re not friends now, which is exactly how it should be, so Raven’s not super sure how this whole thing is going to go down. She barely ever talks to him.

“Okay, so, I have a proposition for you,” Octavia begins and Bellamy laughs.

“I’m gonna save you some time and say ‘no’,” Bellamy says, standing up and stretching.

Octavia rises to join him, and now they’re all standing in a circle, like this couldn’t get any fucking weirder. “Hear me out. You know Clarke Griffin?”

Bellamy’s face hardens, and Raven can already tell this is not going to go in their favor. “Everyone knows Clarke Griffin.”

“Okay, well, do you know about her weird parents and how they won’t let her step-brother date until she does?”

Bellamy raises his eyebrows. “Okay, well, that makes no fucking sense at all, what the fuck is up with rich people.”

“That’s what I said,” Octavia says. “Anyway, Raven here may or may not be madly in love with-”

“O,” Raven says sharply, and Bellamy’s eyes flick to her and narrow slightly. He doesn’t take well to people treating his sister like that, but he also doesn’t know how Raven and Octavia’s friendship works, so he can fuck off.

“Fine,” Octavia says, rolling her eyes. “Raven is  _considering_ the  _possibility_ of dating Wells Jaha."

Another eyebrow raise from the older Blake.

“Huh,” he says. “Didn’t know rich snob was your type.”

Raven flips Bellamy off wordlessly.

“Whatever grudge you have against that family, just forget it for a second,” Octavia says. “Okay, so, first of all, I’m your sister and I know you love me, and I know you, like me, want to see Raven find happiness-”

“Is this some convoluted metaphor for orgasms?” Bellamy asks.

“Come on, listen. So, Raven deserves happiness, especially since Finn, and then that whole thing with you, which - well, you’re not exactly a shining candidate for a healthy romantic relationship, not that you guys ever did anything but have sex that one time-”

“Jesus, O,” Bellamy swears at the same time Raven groans loudly.

Octavia rolls her eyes. “ _Anyway._ All we need in order for Raven to be able to date Wells and finally be happy is for someone to date Clarke, which is a bit of a problem, since she’s sort of terrifying and nobody wants to date her. So, since you claim to not be scared of her and that you’re twice the badass she is, that makes you the perfect candidate.”

Bellamy stares at Octavia and Raven for what seems like a good moment.

“No fucking way,” he says finally.

“Bell,” Octavia starts.

“She’s hot, but she’s not hot enough to be worth all that bitchiness,” he says. Octavia glares at him for a moment. “Sorry, uh. Cuntiness. Wait, is that less misogynistic or more?”

“Please stop talking. What if there was more in it for you than just the knowledge that you’re helping your sister and her dearest best friend?”

Raven looks at Octavia. She hasn’t heard this part of the plan, and that worries her significantly.

“Like what?” Bellamy challenges.

“Like, say, money,” Octavia says. Raven’s jaw drops a little as she continues to stare at Octavia, but the girl seems set on ignoring her for the moment.

Bellamy snorts. “Nice try, O, but Raven’s just as poor as us. And I wouldn’t take it from her, anyway. It’s like some weird form of prostitution.”

“I didn’t say Raven would be paying you,” Octavia says. “You know who else wants to date Wells? Or not date, really, just him in the sack.”

“Octavia, you have got to be kidding me,” Raven says, already seeing where this is going.

“Murphy,” Octavia says. “He’s been trying for like two and a half months to get with Wells.”

“But isn’t the point of this to get Raven with Jaha?” Bellamy asks, clearly confused.

“Yes, and they will get together and it will be glorious, but in order to get there, we have to convince Murphy to pay you to take out Clarke, which will free Wells up to date Murphy. Except he won’t date Murphy, he’ll date Raven.”

“Wait, _Murphy’s_ gonna pay me?”

“All you have to do is float the idea by him, name your price, and not only do you get to see Raven happy by the end, you get to swindle Murphy out of a couple hundred bucks,” Octavia says triumphantly.

“This is going to backfire so hard,” Raven moans. “Can we please reconsider the lighting me on fire and tossing me off a cliff idea? _That_ was innovative.”  
Octavia holds a hand up to Raven to silence her, and Raven swats it away.

Bellamy still seems unconvinced, although he’s brightened somewhat since Octavia brought up the ‘swindling Murphy out of money’ point. “So I have to suggest the idea to Murphy?”

“Well, we could, but I don’t think it’d go very well,” Octavia says. “Murphy’s scared of you, and that way you’ll get more money out of him.”

“This still feels weird,” Bellamy says.

“This doesn’t make you a prostitute, Bell, I promise,” Octavia says. “Besides, you could make some serious money out of this. You could finally get your car fixed, or we could put it in savings for an emergency - you’re not exactly in a position to be turning away lucrative job offers. Especially when the job is taking a hot girl out on a couple of dates. Really, this is a win-win.”

“Except said hot girl is an incredibly unpleasant and elitist rich snob,” Bellamy says. “I’ve met caged rattlesnakes with better temperaments.”

“Like you'd ever go near a caged rattlesnake,” Octavia says with a snort. “Also, you are also incredibly unpleasant, in case you haven’t realised. And how do you know she’s elitist? Yes, she’s rich, and she’s definitely a part of the elite, but don’t you get the feeling she kind of hates it?”

“I could care less whether or not she’s happy with her life,” Bellamy says darkly.

“The point is, this is a good fucking plan and you should go talk to Murphy like, right now.”

Bellamy looks at Raven. “What are your thoughts on this?”

“I don’t know,” Raven sighs.

“I’m not gonna bust my ass trying to get Clarke fucking Griffin to date me, no matter how much I’m being paid, unless it’s for a good fucking reason,” Bellamy says. “So do you actually like this Jaha kid?”

Raven stares at her feet. Octavia nudges her a bit harder than is probably necessary.

“Yes,” Raven says. “I - I’m not into feelings shit, especially not since Finn. You know we wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t important to me. Seriously, this is the most fucking embarrassing thing of my life, I wouldn’t be doing it if I wasn’t sure about… about him.”

Bellamy considers her for a moment.

“Wow, you get really lame when you have feelings for people,” he says.

“Fuck off,” Raven almost snarls. “If you’re not going to help, then you could at least just fucking tell us instead of being an ass about it.”

“Relax,” Bellamy says. He considers Raven for a moment. “I’ll talk to Murphy at lunch.”

Octavia squeals and hugs her brother, who, despite a heavy eyeroll, hugs her back.

“Thank you Bell,” she says, grinning widely.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says. “Come on, get to class. I’ll see you at 3. Don’t be late or I’ll leave without you.”

“Please,” Octavia snorts. “You’ve never left without me in your life.”

Bellamy flips her off and she pokes her tongue out him as he leaves.

Octavia throws her arm around Raven’s shoulder as they head off in the opposite direction to Bellamy.

“What did you ever do to deserve me,” Octavia says dramatically.

Raven shoves her lightly, fighting back a grin.

~ ~ ~

Clarke’s on her way to her last class of the day and she feels about ready to collapse. She has English Lit with Mr Kane, which basically means low-level torture for the next fifty five minutes. It also means sitting in front of Murphy, which is all part of the low-level torture thing, and she would skip, if she didn't actually really like the subject itself, but she does, so there she is, with her books in her hands and a mild scowl on her face, when she feels someone watching her.

This isn’t that out of the ordinary - her stepfather's the mayor, her mother’s head of surgery at the local hospital; in a town like this, that makes her fairly well known - and also, she sort of tends to leave an impression on people. It’s not necessarily a good one, but that’s how she likes it. The thing that is out of the ordinary though, is that when she turns around to glare at whoever’s gaze is burning through her sweater, the culprit turns out to be Bellamy fucking Blake.

She knows a bit about him from Miller, because Bellamy’s another one of his ‘kind-of friends’ - which basically means they say ‘hi’ to each other in the locker rooms sometimes and that’s it - and also because Bellamy’s one year disappearance was all anyone talked about for ages. Rumours about what he was doing include theories that he had brief stint in porn, a supposed run-in with the mafia - which, what, they live in a suburban town in Arizona, the closest thing they have to a mafia is the PTA - that meant he had to go on the run, and something about a double life as an assassin. Not that she cares, but her money was always on the porn theory. He’s kind of absurdly hot, although his obnoxious, macho personality sort of ruins it, and she could definitely see him making some major money.

Other than that, she knows he’s a senior despite being 19 - because of his year off - and that he’s super protective of his sister, some girl named Octavia who’s kind of/sort of dating Lincoln from Clarke’s art class.

On paper, Bellamy seems like an alright guy. In person, he’s a hyper-masculine jock type, and the actual definition of a rebel without a cause. The bullshit and hijinks he pulls has no purpose except disruption, and it really fucking irritates Clarke. If you’re going to be a delinquent, at least be a delinquent with a political message or something. Anyway, he’s watching her unabashedly, a look of curiosity on his face. She stops to glare at him for a second, and when his only reaction is to smirk, she huffs, turns back around, and keeps going, determined not to let it shake her.

“Fucking jocks,” she mutters.

Her class goes by achingly slow, which isn’t helped by the fact that Murphy makes a snide comment about her every ten minutes and then _she_ gets blamed by Kane for retaliating, and by the end, she’s in such a rush to get out of the classroom before she physically harms one of her classmates - probably Murphy (definitely Murphy) - that she walks right into Bellamy Blake. His hand goes to her arm to steady her, and she finds herself gripping his bicep for just a moment - it tenses, and she feels the muscles there and -

She rips her hand away and steps back.

“In a rush, princess?” he says, looking amused.

She scoffs and walks away from him, only to have him walk alongside her.

“You really can’t take a hint, can you,” she says, picking up her pace in the hopes of losing him.

Alas, he just speeds up. “Nope. I have a problem.”

“You have many,” Clarke mutters. “What do you want?”

“Who says I want anything? Maybe I just want to talk.”

Clarke stops at her locker and doesn’t look at him. “We don’t talk, Blake.”

“So does this act really work on people?” he asks, leaning on the locker next to hers as she puts her books away and zips up her bag. “The whole self-righteous ‘I hate everyone’ playing hard to get thing thing? ‘Cause it really doesn’t work on me.”

“Finally, my saviour has arrived,” Clarke says in a monotone voice. “Someone to push past my emotional walls and get to know the real me.”

“Do you always hide yourself under five layers of sarcasm, or is that a special thing I get to experience?”

“What do you think?”

“Why don’t I tell you when I pick you up for our date tonight?”

Clarke looks at him, hoping her face conveys her utter disgust and horror at this entire situation.

“Oh, good god,” she says. “ _That’s_ what this is? Seriously?”

She slams her locker door shut.

“I can tell you think I’m hot,” Bellamy asks. “But if you want to pretend you’re disgusted by me, that’s your thing.”

“I don’t have to pretend,” Clarke says, and starts heading off. “I’m leaving now.”

“What, scared to be seen with a poor kid?” Bellamy calls out.

Clarke stops. “You’re not stupid enough to think that’s what this is about, are you?”

“Then what is it about?”

Clarke scoffs. “Let me give you some dating advice, Bellamy: next time you’re looking for a target, try going for someone who’s never gotten the opportunity to witness your shitbag personality.”

Bellamy opens and closes his mouth a couple of times, looking shell-shocked.

“Excuse me, I’ve really got to get going,” Clarke says, walking away without a backward glance. “I’m on a tight schedule.”


	2. Chapter 2

Bellamy waits for Octavia in his car out the front of the school, drumming his fingers on the wheel so hard it almost hurts. That conversation with Clarke had turned out worse than he ever thought it could go. Has he lost his game? Did he even have game to begin with?

The door opens and Octavia slides in.

“Hey, Bell,” she says, strapping herself in. “How’d the talk with Murphy go?”

“Good,” he says shortly, starting up the car.

“So he agreed? And he’s paying you?”

“Yep.”

Octavia looks at him as he pulls out onto the road and speeds up more than is probably necessary. “Why are you in such a shit mood, then?”

“Tried talking to Clarke. Didn’t go well.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. She - she just took everything in the worst possible way!”

“Probably because you said stupid stuff! You can’t just jump right into it, you’ve gotta ease into talking to her. That’s what Lincoln said.”

Bellamy’s hands tighten around the wheel. “Really? Did _Lincoln_ give you any other wise words about dealing with gremlins?”

“Shut up, he’s nice. And probably start with not calling her a gremlin. She’s just a girl, Bellamy.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Bellamy mutters.

“She can’t be _that_ bad.”

“She told me I have a shitbag personality.”

Octavia laughs for a solid minute.

“I’m serious, O,” Bellamy says. “How am I supposed to do this?’

“Okay, okay, fine,” Octavia says. “Think of it as a job. If you want to do this job properly, you have to get to know her first. It doesn’t matter if you don’t care, just - I don’t know, fake it.”

“Somehow that seems more fucked up than fake dating her,” Bellamy says. “Fake befriending her is so much more personal.”

“How much is Murphy paying you?”

“A hundred bucks. I’m definitely raising the price after that conversation, though.”

“Okay. So start by apologising. Show an interest in what she likes, ask her about shit. I mean, try not to get too close, we don’t want to leave her more emotionally scarred than when we started. But hang out with her before you ask her on a real date. Seriously, this is like, dating 101. It’s kind of sad that you have to be taught this by your younger sister.”

Bellamy shoots her a glare, but he knows she’s right. This is going to take a bit more work than he thought.

~ ~ ~

The last bell has just finished ringing when Raven approaches Wells in the library. He’s been studying there for about an hour because he has a free period, but Clarke doesn’t, and she’s his ride so he can’t leave until she does.

“Hey, Jaha,” she says. He smiles, and she seems to falter a little. She looks - kind of _nervous,_ actually, which is new. He didn’t know Raven Reyes could _be_ nervous.

“Hey,” he says. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in here before.”

“What, you think I don’t study?” she says.

“No, I just figured you probably know all the stuff in these books anyway,” he says.

She smiles for a second, so quick Wells would’ve missed it if he’d blinked. “Yeah, well. The science section, anyway.”

“I wish,” Wells says. “Chemistry is going to be the actual death of me.”

Raven stands there for a second, fidgeting. _Fidgeting_. This is the weirdest thing Wells has ever witnessed, and it’s actually starting to worry him. Did he do something to her he doesn’t know about? Has she noticed him looking at her and she’s trying to tell him to back the hell off?

“I could tutor you,” she offers.

“Uh, yeah, that - that’d be great,” Wells says, stammering despite every effort to just be _cool_ for once. “I’d really appreciate that.”

“Okay,” Raven says. “Cool.”

“How does fifty an hour sound?”

Her face twists. “Can’t I just do it as your friend?”

“Well, yeah, of course, but you may as well get paid too, right? And it’s not like my parents can’t afford it.”

She still looks wary.

“Raven, seriously,” Wells says.

“I don’t want there to be some weird power dynamic shit between us,” Raven says.

“There won’t be,” Wells says. “I promise. I’ll even get someone else to give you the money instead of me, if it makes you feel better. Like Clarke.” Her face twists even more. “Uh, or maybe - Miller. Miller can give you the money.”

“The surly dude that hangs out with Monty?”

“Yeah, that’s him.”

“I guess that’d be fine.”

Wells smiles. “Okay, cool.”

Raven smiles back and Wells ignores the way his heart squeezes. They talk for another ten minutes - Raven even sits down next to him eventually - until Clarke walks up, dumping her bag on the table and throwing herself into a chair.

“I hate today,” she says.

“You hate every day,” Wells says.

“Yeah, well, every day sucks,” she says. It’s only then she notices Raven.

“Uh, hi,” Raven says.

Clarke considers her for a moment. “What’s up, Reyes.”

“Nothing much.”

“Raven’s going to tutor me in Chemistry,” Wells says.

“Raven’s a brave woman,” Clarke says. “Come on, let’s go. I’ve got shit to do and fast food to consume.”

“Okay,” Wells says, hiding his disappointment. He turns to Raven. “Um, I’ll text you and we can set up a time. For the tutoring, I mean.”

“Sounds good,” Raven says.

Wells shoots her a grin that he hopes comes across as charming instead of creepy. “Cool. Talk to you then.”

“See ya,” Clarke says to Raven as they leave, which Wells appreciates, not that he says anything.

When they get to the car, all Clarke says is: “She’s so out of your league, it’s hilarious. She studies rocket science in her spare time, Wells. She’s an actual genius. _You_ once got your hand stuck in a jar of cherries for eight hours.”

“Y’know, being bitter is a choice,” Wells says. “You’ve chosen to be like this.” A pause. “And it was six hours.”

“Sure it was.”

She doesn’t speak again until they’ve been on the road for fifteen minutes. Clarke’s like that sometimes. She just shuts down and you have to wait for her to start the conversation again. Wells doesn’t mind it, actually; sometimes he likes the silence.

“Bellamy Blake talked to me today,” she says.

Wells looks at her incredulously. “ _The_ Bellamy Blake? ‘Devastatingly hot’ Bellamy Blake?”

“Are you _ever_ going to forget that fucking night,” Clarke groans.

“Nope,” Wells says, because he definitely won’t. He and Clarke accidentally got very drunk whilst trying to take the edge off at one of those fucking benefits their parents always dragged them along to, so they snuck out the back to try to sober up, which is where Clarke admitted in a whisper to having had a sex dream about Bellamy and talked about how attractive he was for about half an hour. It was a magnificent night, akin to a religious experience.

“What did he say to you?” Wells asks.

“He, uh,” Clarke says. “He kind of hit on me.”

“ _What?_ Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

“This is _Bellamy Blake_. Why did you wait this long to tell me? Why didn’t you text me literally while the conversation was still happening?”

“Because it’s not a big deal, and I hate him, and I told him that I hate him,” Clarke says.

“That seems a little unfair,” Wells says. “You barely know anything about him.”

“I know enough,” Clarke says.

“Just because you’ve heard a few stories and seen him hit on a few girls doesn’t mean you can automatically write him off.”

Clarke looks at Wells. “He told me that my ‘self-righteous-I-hate-everyone’ act didn’t work on him, and then he said he knows I think he’s hot.”

“Well, you do,” Wells says. Clarke glares and presses down on the accelerator. “So did he actually ask you out?”

“Yes,” Clarke says, and then, after a pause: “I said no.”

“I mean, I figured.”

Clarke lets the car slow down a little. “Listen, Wells… I’m sorry that you’re in this shitty position, but I’m not… I’m not just going to go out with someone so you can date Raven or whoever else. Maybe I might have before, but not now.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Wells says. “I would never expect that from you. And I wouldn’t want you to date someone just so I could.”

“Good,” Clarke says. “So, is it too early for Taco Bell?”

“Will you even listen if I say yes?”

“Taco Bell it is.”

~ ~ ~

“You’re psyching yourself out,” Octavia says.

“Shut up, O,” Bellamy says, watching the field anxiously. He and Octavia are sitting in the stands watching the hockey team play - Clarke plays hockey, apparently, which Bellamy thinks is kind of fitting, given that hockey is a wildly aggressive game that he can’t believe schools actually allow kids to play. Bellamy’s still in his gross gym clothes from his jog earlier, and he’s fairly certain he smells like death, but Octavia’s insisting that now is the right moment to talk to Clarke.

It’s been about a week since his first interaction with her. That’s how long it’s taken him to regroup, and even now he’s nervous. Not that he’d admit it. She’s a five foot five blonde girl who, according to Octavia, volunteers at the local animal shelter in her spare time. Bellamy has no idea how Octavia knows this, but he’s not surprised that she does. His sister works fast.

“Okay, so, game plan,” Octavia says. “Run me through it.”

“I’m just gonna be nice,” Bellamy says.

“ _Nice?_ It took you a week to come up with ‘nice’?”

“It’s harder than it looks.”

“Clarke isn’t nice,” Octavia says.

“Yeah, well, I tried the playful banter thing and nearly got my head ripped off,” Bellamy says. “What else am I supposed to do?”

“Any of the things I suggested!” Octavia says. “Find out what she’s interested in, be interested in that in a nonchalant way, start up a tentative friendship that soon blossoms into actual dates.”

“And how do you know that’ll work?”

“Worked on Lincoln,” Octavia mutters.

Bellamy turns to her. “ _Excuse_ me?”

“I mean, it’s _working_ on Lincoln,” Octavia says. “We’re still in the tentative friendship phase.”

“Oh yeah, I’m sure that’s exactly what Lincoln wants from you. Tentative friendship.” Bellamy blows out a breath. “Christ, this is my nightmare.”

“Again, I reiterate: she is a _girl_. She is not a pipe bomb.”

“Half and half.”

“ _Bell_.”

“Okay!” he says. “Okay. I’m going.”

He makes his way down the stands and down to the field. The hockey team usually finishes their practice by now, but they seem to be running a bit overtime, so Bellamy decides to run a final lap before he approaches Clarke. Hopefully it’ll take the edge off.

He takes off his shirt and leaves it on one of the benches, because it’s a hot day, and also because he figures it can’t hurt to show off his body a little. Maybe Clarke is secretly extremely shallow.

He takes off, trying not to look over at her every twenty seconds - he restricts it to thirty - and by the time he’s nearing the end, he’s caught the attention of most of the hockey team. Their coach blows a whistle, and soon the practice appears to be over. Bellamy jogs over to the bench where Clarke and a few of her teammates are towelling off and drinking water, willing himself to be nonchalant. The ground is muddy when he gets over there - it’s been raining on and off the whole day - and he almost slips. This is probably the least cool he’s been in his life, and he _loathes_ it.

“Are we really doing this again,” she says when he reaches her. It’s a statement, not a a question, like she’s already resigned herself to her fate, which - well, it’s not exactly the tone Bellamy endeavours to hear from a girl he’s trying to date, whether he actually wants to date her or not.

“I wanted to apologise,” he says.

Clarke looks at him strangely.

“For the other week,” he says to clarify. “I know I probably came across as some aggressive macho dick. Wasn’t my intention.”

“And yet.”

“I just figured it might be a good way to, uh. Break the ice? Get to know each other and shit.”

“Thank god you’re not a camp counsellor, then,” Clarke says.

He grins, and doesn’t fail to notice the way Clarke’s eyes widen a little. His smile is pretty foolproof.

“Anyway, it was stupid, and I totally get why you went off at me,” Bellamy says. “I was hoping maybe we could try again?”

“Right.”

“Are you free now? Do you maybe wanna go for coffee or something?”

Before Clarke can say anything, a puck lands at her feet. Both she and Bellamy look up to see one of the other hockey players with her hand over her mouth.

“Sorry!” she says.

“No problem,” Clarke shouts, swinging her hockey stick back, letting it collect the mud and dirt that covers the area of pitch where they’re standing. She brings it up in the air, letting the mud splatter all over Bellamy, before she brings it forward and sends the puck sailing across the field. The look she gives him when she turns back around lets him know it was definitely not an accident.

“Sorry, looks like something just came up,” Clarke says. She collects her things as the other hockey players try to hide their laughter. Bellamy heads back to the bleachers, picking his shirt up on the way.

“Ready to take my advice now?” Octavia asks with a raised eyebrow when he sits down next to her.

“Yes and shut up,” Bellamy says, wiping the mud from his face.

Octavia smirks. “Need a kleenex?”

“Shut _up_.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do people still play mario kart?? also hi! it's been over a year! whoops !

“Hey, can I ask you a question?”

Miller very decidedly does not tense up at the words, even though they’re coming from Monty and the implications of such an open-ended request are, quite frankly, fucking terrifying and could range anywhere between  _ could you grab me another iced tea  _ and  _ why have you not gotten the hint that I want you out of my house, you creep? _

Instead, he refocuses on the screen in front of them, as they sit on the ground leaning against Monty’s living room couch - three rounds deep into a Mario Kart competition, they tend to just abandon all pretences of sitting comfortably and get as close to the screen as possible - and clears his throat.

“‘Course,” he says gruffly. It comes out pretty casually, he thinks. Yeah. He’s cool. He’s mysterious. He is definitely not having a minor panic attack right now.

“It’s about Clarke,” Monty says, and Miller’s anxiety recedes considerably, though not entirely.

“Uh, sure,” he says, “but there’s an eyes-bigger-than-your-stomach factor that might come into play here.”

Monty doesn’t say anything for a moment, either from confusion or because Miller just  _ finally  _ passed him on Rainbow Road. “In the interest of my own wellbeing, I’m not going to ask what that means.”

“Good call.” Another pause. “So - did you still want to ask me about Clarke, or…”

“I just - there’s no, like, normal person way to ask about this. But you know how Jasper and I are working on that Zine about statistical improbability and star signs?”

“Oh yeah, that sounded cool.”

It actually sounded obtuse and borderline inaccessible to the average reader, when Miller first heard about it, but. Monty’s not getting any less cute, so.

“Anyway, we wanted to have a featured person every issue, and we were thinking about interviewing Clarke.”

Miller snorts.

“For any particular reason?” he asks.

“People find her intriguing,” Monty says. “She’s a good draw.”

Miller chews the words over for a moment, doesn’t quite appreciate the taste of them. It’s not that Monty means any harm, obviously - it’s Monty. But Miller knows that people tend to look at Clarke a certain way, like she’s some terrifying, semi-famous legend and not just a human being whose people skills are a bit rough around the edges. It bugs him.

“I don’t know that she’d be down for that,” Miller says.

“That’s why I thought I’d ask you a couple questions,” Monty says. “Try to get a sense of what the piece might look like.”

“Right,” Miller says.

“You don’t have to, obviously, if you feel weird about it. I’m not trying to be a dick, I think Clarke’s really cool. I think more people should know that about her.”

“I can answer a couple questions,” Miller says. “But nothing personal. And I’m gonna tell her about this conversation, just so you know.”

“I figured,” Monty says. “It’s not like I’m trying to hide it from her. It’ll probably go down better if the idea comes from you, anyway.”

Miller glances at Monty, a smile playing at his lips. “This was your plan, huh? Use me for my industry contacts?”

“Not just that,” Monty says, his Yoshi passing Miller’s Peach with a zoom on screen. “You’re also an easy victim in Mario Kart.”

“Fucking banana peels,” Miller grumbles.

~ ~ ~

“So, guess who was asking about you today,” Miller says in place of a greeting, dumping his bag on Clarke’s bedroom floor and dropping onto her bed.

“Mary Louise-Parker,” Clarke says without looking up from her laptop.

“Surprisingly, no, she has yet to move to Oregon to start a new life as a high school teacher.”

“Worth a shot,” Clarke mutters, and then turns away from her desk, stretching her arms up. She’s wearing the same hoodie as she was when he saw her two days ago, and she’s sure he knows her too well to think there’s even the slightest chance she’s washed it since, like, the last Olympics, so she doesn’t try to hide the pasta sauce stains. “Okay, who?”

“Monty,” Miller says.

“Is this story noteworthy for any reason other than it apparently stars Monty?”

“Shut up. He wants to feature you in he and Jasper’s zine thing.”

“Zine thing?” Clarke repeats, quirking an eyebrow.

“About astrology or something,” Miller shrugs.

“Oh, that’s hot.”

“So, that’s why he was asking me about you.”

“To find out that I’m a Sagittarius? 

Miller shrugs again. It is his number one move, after all.

“It was more like, what are your hobbies, your interests,” he says. Clarke stands up, winces as her muscles protest quietly at the sudden movement. “Personality stuff.”

“How did you break it to him that I have no personality?” Clarke asks.

“Well, he’s met you, you’d think he would know already,” Miller points out.

“I guess I’m just a good actor.”

“Oh, did you still need me to come to that rich people thing on Tuesday? ‘Cause I kind of made plans with Monty.”

Clarke sighs deeply. “Can’t believe I’m being cucked like this.”

Miller grimaces. “I would pay good money to never have to hear you use that word again,” he says.

“Alas, if you had that kind of money, you’d have to come to this rich people thing with me regardless of your irritatingly cute non-boyfriend,” Clarke says.

“Seriously, though. I know you hate those things.”

Which - yeah. She’s not blind to the benefits of being Abby Griffin’s daughter, knows how lucky she is to not have to worry about money or college or things as basic as food and keeping a roof over her head. But that doesn’t change the fact that there are aspects of it, such as being paraded around at galas and making small talk with people who will only ever see her as the black sheep, people who’ll start whispering the second she’s out of earshot about her bad reputation and ‘didn’t she used to be a lesbian?’, that make the term ‘lucky’ feel a like a sick cosmic joke.

“I’ll be fine,” she says. “I’ll just make Wells come.”

Miller glances up at her through his eyelashes, looking awkward. “Uh. He meets with Raven on Tuesday nights.”

Of course.

“Right,” she says. “Couldn’t possibly deprive him of tutoring for a subject he was already passing. God forbid he gets a C for the first time in his life.”

Miller sniffs the air, furrows his brow. “You making coffee?”

“What? No.”

“‘Cause something smells bitter.”

This time, the pillow hits him square in the face.

~ ~ ~

When Bellamy gets home on Saturday night after a 10-hour shift, back aching and brain numb, the last thing he wants to do is discuss Clarke goddamn Griffin, really. It’s not that unreasonable a request, he thinks - unless, of course, Octavia happens to be your sister.

“So, I’ve drawn up a game plan,” she says excitedly, shoving an A3 sketchbook into his hands barely two seconds after he’s sat down at the kitchen table. He groans, but it comes out as more of a whimper. “It comes down to a five step system.”

“No,” he says, pushing the book away. “I’m just gonna tell Murphy it’s off and he can keep his money.”

“Bellamy,” Octavia whines. “We’re doing this for  _ Raven _ .”

“ _ We _ ?” Bellamy echoes. “You’re not doing anything!  _ I’m  _ the one risking my testicles.”

“That was one guy,” Octavia huffs, “and you know he deserved it.”

Bellamy stubbornly refuses to respond, even though he sort of agrees. On the shortlist of appropriate occasions to knee someone in the groin, being cheated on is up there, and on the adjacent list of individuals deserving of such an injury, Finn Collins is  _ definitely  _ in the top three.

“Anyway, I have been doing something! I did  _ this _ ,” Octavia says, thrusting the sketchbook at Bellamy again, more forcefully this time. He sighs, daring to look down at it. The first page is a color-coded diagram of Clarke’s interests, hobbies, and dislikes, with the latter taking up far less space than he would’ve originally thought.

“This is… detailed,” Bellamy says. “And mildly concerning.”

“That’s my brand,” Octavia says with a toothy grin.

“Do I really need to know her favorite color?”

“It might come up!”

“Sure.” Bellamy sighs, pushing his hand through his hair to tug at it lightly. “So, what am I supposed to do with all this?”

“Easy,” Octavia says. “There’s a charity gala in town on Tuesday night. The Griffins are going, ‘cause Jaha has to host. Raven’s tutoring Wells and Monty’s hanging out with Miller, so Clarke will be on her own.”

“Okay, saying shit like that is going to get us arrested.”

Octavia rolls her eyes. “Not like that. I meant  _ emotionally _ , she’ll be on her own. She doesn’t get along with her mom and I know for a fact she hates those rich people things.”

“And yet she’s still going.”

“A friend of mine is working as a server,” Octavia says, ignoring him. “Luna. She can get you a job for the night, you just have to source a suit. Plus, you get a night of work and a decent-ish wage.”

“Bully for me.”

“Okay, snarky comments? Not helpful. Anyway, you’ll go, you’ll charm her, you’ll casually mention a shared interest or two, and then you’ll invite her to come with you to the party next weekend.”

Bellamy raises an eyebrow. “There’s a party next weekend?”

Octavia grins, slightly more feral this time. “There will be.”

~ ~ ~

So far, tutoring Wells is going well -  _ so far _ meaning: it’s their second session and Raven has yet to noticeably make a fool of herself. She thinks. Damn it, she used to be cool.

Anyway, he’s a good student, receptive whilst still being an active learner, smart without being vainglorious. He’s also very cute and he smiles a lot when he gets things right, or when bits of the material click and start making more sense, or when Raven makes bad periodic table puns. It’s becoming a problem. (The smiling, not the puns. Or. Well, both.)

They’ve decided to meet at a local diner since the library only stays open till 5 - this way, Wells can still go to Racquetball with his dad and Raven can fuel her caffeine addiction.

“Seriously, though,” she says, second cup of the evening clutched between her hands because it’s fucking  _ cold _ . “Racquetball? I honestly thought that was some kind of ongoing hoax, like they’re just waiting to see who calls bullshit first.”

“They?” Wells says, amused.

Raven waves her hand. “The New World Order, the Bush Administration, whoever.”

“Well, sorry to burst your conspiracy bubble,” he says, “but it’s all too real. Dad makes me go every week, he says it’s a good way to build relationships with your clients. Not that he has clients anymore, but - yeah. Personally, I think he just likes saying the word.”

“ _ Racquetball _ ,” Raven says slowly. “Yeah, it’s pretty fun, phonetically speaking. Not as good as  _ luge _ , though.”

“If he could pull off the outfits, I’m sure he’d be doing that instead,” Wells says.

“What did he do again? Before the whole mayor thing?” Raven asks. Some part of her is aware that these kind of questions are not in the job description for a chemistry tutor, but whatever. They ended up hanging out for two hours last time; that’s more than enough time to get down to carbon compounds  _ and  _ find out more about Wells and his weird, borderline fascist father.

“He’s was the CEO of a marketing firm,” Wells says.

“I guess that makes sense,” Raven says. “Politics is basically just marketing. So, does he want you to take over the family business?”

“Yeah,” Wells says. “Or - that’s the plan, if I can ‘prove myself’.”

“Is that what you want to do?” Raven asks, blowing carefully on her coffee.

Wells shrugs. “It doesn’t sound awful. I know I’m really lucky. I always saw myself doing something a little less, like, corporate and actively capitalist, but maybe I could make some changes from the inside. The devil you know, and all that.”

“I could see that,” Raven says. “If that’s what you wanted.”

“How about you? What does your mom do?”

Raven tenses a little.

“She’s a cleaner,” she says, looking at him sharply, unsure all of a sudden about how he might respond.

“Cool,” he says, face unchanged. “And your dad…”

“Gone,” she says. “Not dead, he just left.”

Wells nods. She wants to ask about his mom (all she really knows is that she passed away, but when, where, why - those are the details the public was never privy to) but she’s already pried a lot, especially considering it’s only their second session, so she decides maybe it’s time to actually  _ study _ . As with their first session, the hours fly, and by the time they’ve finished up, it’s been nearly four hours (read: six cups of coffee and two green teas for Wells).

“Sorry this took so long,” Raven says as they’re packing up their things. Wells insisted on settling the bill, even though Raven’s the one who had two slices of pie on top of her coffees. She’s slightly prickly about it - money makes her feel weird, just instinctively, and that just compounds on the guilt that’s been bubbling in her stomach since Octavia started this whole scheme. Or maybe that’s just the caffeine.

“You don’t have to apologise,” Wells says, flashing that perfect grin again. “I’m the one who needs the help here.”

“Still. You don’t have to pay me hourly, you can just - a flat rate is fine.”

“Tutors are paid hourly,” he argues. “That’s, like, the rules.”

“You’re a real stickler for the rules, huh,” Raven says.

“Not always,” he says. She stares at him for a moment, and then busies herself with her bag, flushing. He coughs. “But when it comes to fair work conditions, everyone should be a stickler.”

“Wow, you sound like you’re in a union ad,” Raven says.

Wells grins again and Raven’s heart patters. Or - it feels more like a sneeze, really. It’s not rhythmic enough to be deemed a patter.

“Well, you know,” he says. “That’s Plan B. If the whole corporate sell-out thing doesn’t happen.”

“It’s good to have a variety of options,” Raven says. “Play both sides of the field.”

“I don’t think I have good enough coordination to be a double agent,” Wells says.

“Next session we’ll do corporate espionage,” Raven says.

“Looking forward to it.”

They walk to Wells’ car - he’s offered to drive Raven home, since it’s so late - through the near-empty parking lot, still talking, and the whole drive home, Raven feels that offbeat pound of her heart, drumming lightly from inside her ribcage.

~ ~ ~

It’s a full two hours before Clarke is able to escape the gala and its endless stream of her mother’s friends and her step-father’s constituents, and sneak out the back for some peace and goddamn quiet. She doesn’t relish the fresh air as much as she thought she would. Somehow, in this stupid, preppy, never-been-worn before dress, that stuffy, claustrophobic feeling follows her. If this were an animation or a Daniel Powter music video, she’d probably have a rain cloud hanging over her head, following her through the crowd and outside into the bite of the cold air.

She’s not really that miserable, despite popular opinion. She’s generally happy with her life, with Wells and Miller. But sometimes, at places like these, with people like her mother, college seems like a far off hallucination, something she’s subconsciously invented to get her through the days. So, sue her, she brings out the joint Miller rolled for her earlier, checks to make sure there’s no chance of being caught by anymore grey-faced senators, puts in her earphones, and lights up.

It’s windy enough she has to relight every so often, and she’s fumbling for the lighter she pocketed not ten seconds ago, Fiona Apple playing on shuffle, when out of nowhere, a hand appears holding a match to the end of the joint.

It’s lit before she can look up, and when she does, Bellamy Blake is standing there wearing a full suit and that ever present, annoyingly attractive smirk. She tugs out one of her earphones more violently than is probably necessary, already annoyed.

“Wouldn’t have taken you for a smoker,” he says.

“You know, you’re flirting with a felony, following me around like this,” she says.

“I’m not stalking you,” he says with an eye roll, pocketing the matchbox. “I’m one of the servers.” He’s dressed a little too nice for that, but Clarke guesses without the suit jacket, he could blend in to the crowd a little better. She wonders how she didn’t notice him, but then, she doesn’t really pay a lot of attention at these things.

“So, this is you serving?” she says, taking a drag off the joint before the embers die out again.

“I’m on break,” he says. “You gonna report me?”

She looks him up and down. “ _ You _ gonna report  _ me _ ?”

“Not if you share,” he says. She raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Consider it payback for last week’s dry cleaning bill.”

Clarke rolls her eyes and passes the joint to him. He’s the one working, not her, so - his funeral.

“So, this is your coping mechanism for all that,” he gestures behind them with his free hand, “ _ Eyes Wide Shut  _ fuckery?”

“Nobody in that room is hot enough to make that a cogent reference,” she says.

“Fair call,” he says. “Too many old white dudes. Although, to be fair, that’s probably the reality of most sex cults.”

“Yeah, Kubrick really took liberties with how attractive kinksters could be. Talk about unrealistic representations.”

Bellamy chuckles, a low sound in the bottom of his throat, and Clarke realises they’re actually having a conversation, finds it doesn’t bother her as much as it maybe should, considering she was slinging mud in his face not five days ago.

“Wasn’t he a piece of shit in real life anyway?” Bellamy says.

“Yeah, he pretty much tortured Shelley Duvall when they were filming  _ The Shining _ ,” she says. “But, you know, it was  _ for the art _ , so nobody cared.”

“Gross.”

They’re quiet for a moment.

“They paying you guys okay?” she asks suddenly, without really thinking. Weed tends to do that to her. Plus, she really does care about this shit. What’s the point in a charity benefit that can’t even pay its workers for their labor?

He shrugs. “Decent enough. No tips, though.”

“Why not?” Clarke frowns.

“‘Cause it’s a charity event, I guess?”

“Bullshit,” she mutters. “They’re not allowed to do that. I’ll talk to mom about it.”

“Cool,” he says. “I appreciate that.”

“It’s not about you,” she says. “I’d do it regardless. Just so you know.”

He snorts. “I didn’t think it was. Just trying to say thank you.”

“Thank me by not being a hog,” she says, holding her hand out. He passes the joint back. Some part of her thinks she should still be annoyed that her alone time has been interrupted, but the pleasant high flooding her body makes it hard for her to feel that strongly about anything, really. Plus, he smells nice, and he’s really not being that much of an ass, compared to his usual standard. That might also be the weed talking, though.

“What’re you listening to?” he asks, just as Fiona starts crooning  _ I Know. _ She holds up her phone screen to show him. He hums in approval. “Good shit. I prefer  _ The Idler Wheel _ , but this is still a great album.”

She glances at him, a little surprised. “I agree. Just needed something a bit slower. But  _ Idler Wheel  _ was her best work.”

“Definitely.”

Without dwelling on the idea too much, she hands him the free earphone. He takes it without comment, and they stand like that for a while, through  _ To Your Love  _ and  _ Fast As You Can _ , passing the joint back and forth until it’s dead.

“I should probably get back,” Bellamy says eventually, taking out the earphone. He seems - reluctant, almost. Clarke doesn’t think about it, just nods. “Thanks for the weed.”

“Just doing my part to redistribute the wealth,” she says.

He laughs. “Right.” He turns to go and then stops, like he’s just remembered something. “Hey.”

“This is the goodbye part, actually,” she says. “But good effort.”

“Fuck off,” he says. There’s not much heat to it, surprisingly. “Uh, I was wondering - I don’t want to come off as a creep. And if you’re really, honestly not interested, we never have to talk about this again. But this weekend, there’s this - you know Atom?” She nods. “Yeah, he’s throwing a party. And, uh, I was just wondering if you’d wanna go.”

She looks at him, entirely unsure of how to take this. He’s asked her out twice, but this is the first time it’s actually felt like it might be sincere. She has no clue what to make of it, or why he’s even  _ interested _ , really.

“You could bring Miller and Wells,” he says, “make it more of a group thing. Or you can just say no. But - I think we’d have a good time.”

“And what makes you think that?” she asks, genuinely curious.

He shrugs. “I think we actually have a lot in common.”

“What, like Fiona Apple and hating Kubrick?”

She watches him wrestle with a smile. “Amongst other things. Anyway, just an offer. I know you, like,  _ hate me  _ or whatever, but - I don’t think you  _ hate me _ , hate me. Maybe I’m wrong.”

She doesn’t say anything, just stares at him.

“Uh, anyway,” he says. His cheeks are starting to flush. “Let me know.”

He goes to leave again.

“Bellamy,” she says, and he freezes. “I’d put on cologne, if I were you.”

“I don’t wear cologne,” he says after a moment. “But I’ll borrow some.”

“Good plan.”

He looks at her again, eyes dark and curious. “I’ll see you, Griffin.”

“See you, Blake.”

She turns away, listens to the door open and close, and then puts the other earphone back in, still warm, which is weirdly nice. She checks the time on her phone.

_ Two more hours,  _ she thinks, and breathes in deep.


End file.
